


Let Me Comfort You

by Always_Dreaming



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Euro 2016, M/M, Slightly Funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Dreaming/pseuds/Always_Dreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Portugal beat Wales in the Euro 2016 semi final, Ronaldo comforted Bale on the pitch. How cute were they? And interesting that they wouldn't tell anyone what they said to each other. Maybe he comforted him off the pitch too…</p><p>My first fic for the football fandom. Argh! *nervous*</p><p>~~~~ Thanks for all the nice comments and kudos, they are really encouraging <3 ~~~~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Comfort You

The after match party—or was it a wake—and the hugs with his team mates, the drinking and the singing hadn’t soothed Gareth Bale after his beloved team had been beaten. He sat in his hotel suite at three in the morning, wearing his dressing gown, flicking through the television channels to find something in English. Every channel, however, was full of enthusiastic presenters bragging about how France would win the championship, over and over again.

“Well bloody good for you,” he said aloud. “I hope you beat Portugal til they’re the ones crying into their beer at the end.” Of course Portugal wasn’t famous for its beer. What did they drink instead? He went off into a fantasy about the types of alcohol they might drink to celebrate.

A loud knock on the door made him come back to earth with a jolt. _Who’s visiting me at this hour?_ He stomped to the spy hole—he couldn’t be too careful in case a fan had somehow got past the security desk and guards. Peering through it, he gave a yelp of surprise as Cristiano was standing outside. _What the fuck is he doing here? Come to gloat? He wouldn’t do that, surely? Probably missed the team bus or something, I dunno._

He opened the door cautiously but Cristiano fell against it and tripped into the room, staggering so much that Gareth had to more or less catch him.

“Baleinho!” he exclaimed.

“Cristiano ap Ronaldo, how are you?”

They laughed at their own nicknames for each other, and fell backwards but luckily Gareth was able to steady him. His breath smelled of some kind of fortified wine—Port? _Of course! In Portugal they drink Port._ He smiled.

“What do you want?” He was too tired and sad to think of a polite way to phrase it.

“I came to see how you are. My heart broke for you after the match.”

“Aww… you’re too kind.” He was also heavy, so Gareth sat them down on the bed, which was nearer than the sofa. “Did you mean what you said on the pitch?”

“About you coming on holiday with me after the tournament?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, why not? You can come with me and my friends, or just you and me if you like?”

“I’d like that. Could be fun.”

“Yes, we will get away from it all as you Welsh say.” Cristiano giggled. “But you’d have to wear something over your face.” He giggled more.

Gareth stared at him. “Oh, ‘cause I’m too ugly to be seen with you? Thanks a bunch! Great time to insult me, isn’t it?” He knew he was being petty but he was not in the mood to be sniped at.

“No! No! I meant so people won’t recognise you! You’re as good-looking as me!” Cristiano grabbed his hand as they sat there on the bed. 

“Oh come off it. I look like a monkey.”

“It’s just to stop the media stalking us. You know—if we went on holiday together they’d never leave us alone. I’ll wear a disguise too!” 

Gareth idly played with his friend’s fingers. “You got a point.”

“And you don’t look like a monkey. Don’t say that. You look different to me. That is all.”

“Stop lying.”

“You are good-looking. I mean it, I—” Cristiano leant over and kissed him sloppily, wafting the smell of Port up his nose.

Gareth pushed him away. “What you doing, man?”

“I’m—I’m comforting you. Sorry.” He giggled, not apologetically at all. 

The Welshman couldn’t say he’d never considered this. The times they’d embraced on the pitch after one of them scored, more or less kissing anyway, on top of each other, rolling around in the grass. Why not? So he copied his friend, and was surprised by the enthusiastic response, Cristiano’s tongue frantic in his mouth like a rabbit on heat, and found himself being pushed back onto the bed. He put his hands on his friend’s shoulders to hold him off for a moment so he could catch his breath, then stroked his cheek to calm him.

“Easy,” he whispered. “What’s the rush?” He could feel Cristiano’s heart pounding against him and stroked his hair. “I thought _you_ were supposed to be comforting _me_?” He felt the familiar laugh resonating through him and they kissed more carefully and slowly, delving their tongues into each other’s mouths to see how they felt.

That didn’t last long though. They were too drunk, too emotional, too curious, too hot to be calm. Cristiano pinned him to the bed, pressing the lengths of their bodies together, grinding against each other, tongues wrestling, suffocating but addictive. 

“You’re taking advantage of me,” Gareth gasped when they took a break. His friend paused, looking down at him.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“I’m joking! I mean, I’m naked, you’re not. We’re not equal.” His dressing gown had come open and was bunched up round his back while Cristiano was still wearing his t-shirt and jeans. But not for long because he wrenched them off, chucking them on the floor as if they were burning him.

They admired each other for a few seconds, then Gareth pulled him down and they kissed again, muscles rubbing against each other, their different tanned and pale skin contrasting perfectly. 

“Flip me over,” mumbled Cristiano. “Please.”

Gareth put one knee between his legs, making him groan, then leaned on him and managed to do as he wanted, at the same time letting his dressing gown slip off. Cristiano gasped and relaxed under him, his eyes wide and dark.

“I want it this way.” His accent was more pronounced when he got excited, Gareth had noticed that before, then he jumped as he felt a hand round his cock, clearing his mind and focusing it on getting relief somehow, anyhow.

“I’ll help you,” said Cristiano, moving so his friend lay between his legs, to make his intentions clear.

***

Cristiano looked hot in every sense of the word, he was arching backwards into the bed, exposing his long, pale neck. The neck which had been so close to Gareth’s lips after the match when they’d hugged—he’d wondered how it tasted but not dared to kiss it in public with a million cameras on them. He paused and leant forward, his hot muscles pressing against Cristiano’s, and licked his neck, making him twitch and moan. Gareth nibbled, then bit into his skin, making him cry out and sending a shiver of lust down the Welshman’s body. He moved back into a raised position, propping himself up and thrust again, faster and faster, panting, groaning, gripped tightly by Cristiano’s legs round his back. They forgot they should keep quiet at this time of the morning and shouted their pleasure into the silent hotel night, not caring about any other guests sleeping nearby.

Gareth slowed a little, the long day taking its toll, but Cristiano lifted his head, his red lips parted and the tip of his tongue visible, and winked. “ _Não pare_ ,” he whispered. 

The Welshman knew enough Portuguese to understand this meant _don’t stop_ , so he obeyed his instincts and moved faster, driving into him, gasping, moaning. Even if the rest of his team burst into the hotel suite at that moment, he couldn’t stop and his lust gushed into the tightness, like a tidal wave, a tsunami, he thought it would never stop. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer, for a second he was afraid it would burst, the breath forcing itself out of him painfully.

Cristiano shuffled his hand down and grabbed himself.

“Let me do that.” Gareth wriggled off him and grabbed his cock but it only took a few seconds before that too surged out and went everywhere— their hands, their stomachs, the bed. They were both panting and sweaty, trying to breathe in unison to calm their hearts. He looked up at the dark eyes of his friend—or whatever he was now—and they were warm and smiling.

“F-fucking h-hell.” Gareth stuttered.

“How do you feel now?” They got into a more comfortable position side by side, heads turned towards each other.

“Fine—I feel fine. A bit shocked but—great.” He smiled.

“Good. But I meant about the match. I was so worried about you, I thought you’d break down. I had to come round and see—see if you were okay.”

“Oh, the match! I forgot about that.” Gareth giggled and so did Cristiano, like they’d been caught behind the bike sheds.

“Good.” He stroked the Welshman’s cheek.

“Was that your intention? Come round to make me forget about it like that?”

“No—yes—I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter. Don’t let this change anything between us.” Gareth could hardly keep his eyes open. It had been a long, long day with too many surprises, both unwelcome and pleasant.

“No, I hope not.” Cristiano’s eyelids were also drooping but he wore a beaming smile.

***

A few hours later, Gareth woke up with his mouth like a desert. _Water. I must have water._ There was an unmistakably male cough from next to him. He jumped, and slowly turned round to see Cristiano asleep on his side, muttering in his sleep.

 _Oh yes. That happened._ He did a quick review of his body—everything ached as it normally did after a match but what was new was the pain in his lower back, the slight soreness in his groin and the emptiness of his balls.

Emotionally, he didn’t feel anything but calm though. _It happened. So what? We did it after all that time wanting to._ But his need for water overtook everything else, so he carefully sat up and swung his legs out of bed, shaking his head and pulling his hair back to wake himself up. He stumbled to the kitchen area, then thought he’d better get Cristiano a glass of water too.

While putting the drink down on the side next to his companion, he suddenly realised his naked cock and balls were flapping next to the man’s face.

 _Don’t wake up now, don’t wake up now, don’t wake up now._ He swallowed an inappropriate laugh and luckily managed to leave the glass without Cristiano awakening.

He took a huge gulp of his own water when he sat down on his side of the bed again and rested against the headboard. _Jesus. What do I do now?_

Cristiano mumbled, then turned abruptly onto his back, shaking the bed. “Morning.” 

Gareth looked over at him. “Alright?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I’m fine. I got you some water, look.”

“Oh thanks.” He sat up and took a long drink. “That was a weird day yesterday.”

“Sure was. Er—but with a good ending? Wasn’t it?”

They looked at each other, beginning to smile.

“Yes. A good ending.” He patted Gareth’s arm and they moved closer so their bare shoulders were touching.

“Certainly unexpected—but—I mean—”

“I know. It’s better if we don’t analyse it.”

“Yes. It’s been an awesome few weeks, to be honest. Life changing.”

“Life is always interesting. It could have happened the other way.” Cristiano’s expression looked soft and happy.

The implications of what he’d said filtered through Gareth’s mind. “It could have happened the other way.” _How would I feel if Cristiano fucked me? Not sure if I’d like it, but god, me fucking him had been so hot! So why not?_

“Well, we could do it the other way, if you want,” he stammered. “Not now though, eh? I’m a bit tired, I want a shower and—”

Cristiano smiled and put a finger to his lips to silence him. “I meant, Wales could have beaten Portugal. Not what you thought.”

“Oh.” He giggled, blushing. “Oh.”

They sat in silence for a while, drinking water.

“Hopefully we will beat France on Sunday,” mused Cristiano.

“So, what are you saying? You’ll be going round to comfort the French if you do?” Gareth made quote marks in the air around the word _comfort_ , chuckling.

“Of course not, _idiota._ ” He laughed too. “I only like you.”

“Aw…I only like you too.”

“But I need more sleep, I don’t have to go back to my team til this evening.” He settled back down into bed and Gareth decided to do the same. They made themselves comfortable and were soon snoring against each other.


End file.
